


Healthy, Healthy Choices

by ReaderRose



Series: Semi-Swapped Shorts [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Angst, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Bad Decisions, Dog Treats, Drug Use, Drugs, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Insecurity, Insomnia, Light Angst, Papyrus Has Issues, Recreational Drug Use, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Smoking, Underswap Doggo - Freeform, Underswap Dogi, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 06:32:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaderRose/pseuds/ReaderRose
Summary: UNDERSWAP(Closer-to-Canon personalities)Papyrus makes poor decisions at 3am. Very poor decisions.





	Healthy, Healthy Choices

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was based on a request on Tumblr, and much like Papyrus, it was a 3am decision to write it like this. 
> 
> This is from the Underswap variant where the personalities are somewhat closer to UT/canon. In other words, if you're here for a swap Papyrus who isn't a huge, restless, insecure dork obsessed with being cool, this probably isn't for you.

It was 3am again, and Papyrus could not sleep a wink.

That wasn't unusual. He'd always had trouble sleeping, and once upon a time, he'd accepted that completely. Night had always been working time, where he'd take himself to the shed and build prototypes and personal projects and things to impress his bosses… but those days were long gone.

Plus, Sans had really been after him lately about sleeping more, eating better, making healthy choices, etc etc etc. So, Papyrus figured he should at least try to sleep for once. 

 

Healthy choices. Healthy, healthy choices. For his health. Which was important. 

 

…

 

 

 

Papyrus was gonna do drugs.

 

Yeah.  Yeah, he was going to take a drugs now. Or… uh… okay, he didn't know the “lingo” for doing illicit substances, but he was going to do it.

 

See, there was this guy in town, Doggo, who ran the Inn. Super nice guy, never once laughed at him, and sometimes they smoked together. Papyrus was hesitant to use the “F word” and risk making it weird, but they had become pretty good acquaintances over the years they'd known each other. They would talk sometimes in Muffet's, or Doggo would let him stay in the Inn for free sometimes when he was ducking responsibilities he couldn't quite face right then and there.

Doggo and him would usually just share cigarettes together, but on occasion, the innkeeper would pull out something else to smoke: a dog treat. He'd offered him a try, said they were great for relaxing, unwinding, great for the “bad days” and Papyrus… well, he'd been very tempted. He did have a lot of bad days, though he didn't like to admit it, but he'd declined at the time for fear of embarrassing himself. What if it was like the first time he smoked, coughing and choking and looking decidedly uncool?

 

No thanks. 

 

But he'd been intrigued, and a few days ago, he nervously went into the Dogi's shop to grab a few things, but really just the one thing (the others were distractions, a clever ruse!): Dog treats. He didn't know which ones were the good kind, so he just bought the cheap ones, trying not to draw attention to himself and his illicit items (which were sold over the counter? In broad daylight?? The whole town had to be in on it… a drug conspiracy right under the Queen's snout! And now he was a part of it! He felt dangerous! And cool! And a part of something! It was awesome.) He did a good job. C+ for effort, he thought. Maybe flinging himself out of the window to leave quickly and stealthily was not the best option, in the end. He'd thought it was open? It wasn't. So he'd had to stumble back in and sheepishly offer to pay for a new one. They hadn't been too mad about it, though. He guessed they were used to it.

He had intended to smoke one that very night, but he'd chickened out. And again the next night, and again, and again.

But now, well, they helped with bad days, right? Well, while the day had been fine, the night had been miserable, and he really could use something to unwind. 

 

So tonight was the night. Papyrus was going to do drugs. Illegally. 

 

Wow… he really had fallen, hadn't he? No. No, no, nevermind, that didn't, he wasn't going to think about that. He was going to think about how cool he would look when Doggo offered him a treat and he accepted. He was going to think about how much sleep he was going to get once he finally unwound. Sleep champion. Sleep master. Master of the sleep. And the illicit substances.

Sans was hoping to be so disappointed if he ever found out… No! No no no! Not thinking about that! No! Stop! Bad thoughts! Begone!

Shoo!

 

Okay. Okay, this proved it. He needed it. He couldn't turn his mind off no matter how much he wanted to sometimes, and this was probably what he needed.

Forcing himself to move quickly before he lost his nerve again, Papyrus pulled out his lighter and lit up the treat. This part came with practiced ease, though the lighting part took quite a bit longer than lighting up dry leaves and paper. This thing was kinda thick and slightly oily (and the thought of that made him feel sick, but he wouldn't think about it. He just wouldn't think about it.) which made his task a bit harder, but it didn't last long enough to let the doubts back in.

Those waited until after he took his first drag, and it was exactly as awful as he'd imagined it might be– and then some.

Bleh!!

 

But… he forced himself not to think about it as he took a second, longer, slower drag, trying to savor the intense flavors. And… it… was… 

 

…still awful, but maybe an acquired taste? And maybe he could acquire it. The texture wasn't quite as bad on second try, and he was feeling… maybe a little more relaxed? Just a bit. But these things took a bit to kick in (probably. At least they did on TV.) and if it helped, then…

 

Yeah, actually, yeah. He felt calmer. Lighter, now. Suddenly the stress about this all wasn't so bad, and he wasn't as nervous, and that was a very great result to have.

Papyrus leaned back on his bed, thinking pleasantly about very little besides just how nice this was, to not have to worry about every little thing, if only for a little while. How long did these last, anyway? He didn't know, and maybe that should have scared him, but it didn't. He could accept waiting a little while, being a little more mellow for a bit, instead of just pretending to be all the time.

Yeah, that was a really nice thought. Wowie, all his thoughts he'd had since he started smoking this had been really nice! He got the appeal now, even more than he already had.

 

It still tasted awful of course. His expression with every drag was likely rather uncool, so trying this alone had been a smart move (at least a smart move for his cool, casual reputation. He wasn't far gone enough to not realize that this decision was in most other ways not a smart move.), but he was becoming more used to it, and his winces were getting easier and easier to hide.

Maybe the next time he did this, he would look really cool, really practiced and great, and everyone would think he was a seasoned veteran of drugs. King of the drugs. Or was that technically treasonous to say? At the very least, it wasn't very nice, the real king being missing and all. Duke of the drugs? He didn't think there was a duke anywhere that he would be insulting by taking on that title, so that was probably a better fit.

 

Duke Papyrus, Duke of the Drugs. Drug Duke.

Drug Duke Papyrus!

He giggled to himself. He didn't know why it was so funny, but it was. It was so, so funny.

The giggles escalated into chuckles, then full-on laughter, and it only got worse, until he clamped his hands over his jaws to stop the sound from getting loud enough to wake up Sans, and for some reason that made it even funnier still, because how the heck was he going to explain this one? That he was cracking up laughing at a dumb name he just came up with because the letters both started with D. Was that even why he was laughing?

Nyeh heh heh!!! He didn't know but it was funny! It was funny that it was so funny and it was funny that being so funny was just so funny to him because it normally wouldn't be funny if it wasn't for all the hardcore drugs, and “drugs” just made him think it the words once again, and thus the cycle repeated until he was crying, fully aware in the back of his mind that this was dumb, this was ridiculous, this was just stupid and incredibly uncool no matter how many drugs were involved, but the rest of his mind (the drugged part? Probably) refused to let reason in on this moment, because it was a good, nice moment, free of self-consciousness and anxiety and restlessness and self-conscious anxiety about restlessness.

So he ignored that voice for a while and laughed. He nearly lost the treat through the giggles, catching it only at the last second and falling off the bed in the process with a clatter of bone on wood.

And normally, that would be the part where he thought about how stupid he must look, how ridiculous and uncool. But instead, he thought about how stupid he must look, how ridiculous and uncool, and he laughed. Because it was funny. He was being silly, and it was actually funny. 

 

A knock came at the door, jerking him out of his laughter but not quite out of hit nice mood.

“...Papyrus? You okay in there…??”

“YES I AM PAPYRUS I AM FINE!!!”

“... Did you fall off the bed?”

“YES BUT IT– I'm fine! I just… um. Well I guess I just fell. Huh.”

“Did you… have a nightmare again?”

“Nah, just… I swear, I'm fine, brother. Bro. I'm totally fine.”

“... alright, well, just make sure you get some sleep, okay? Healthy choices, like we talked about?”

Papyrus glanced down at the treat in his hand, feeling the joy roll over in his soul into something more akin to guilt, mixed with nausea, elevated mood crashing down into something murky and awful.

“YEAH bro. I was JUST laying BACK down. GOOD NIGHT, SANS!”

He thought he heard a sigh from the other side of the door. Was he really that obvious? “...Night, Papyrus” 

 

He heard the slippered footsteps padding down the hall and let out a sign of his own. What the hell was he doing? Sitting around in his room, doing this stuff? This was dumb. And now he felt sick. And he didn't really feel quite so goofy and giddy and light anymore. Just tired and guilty and sick.

Really sick, actually.

 

He shoved down a feeling that threatened to come up. Oh no. What if he was going to die?

 

Oh no. He was going to die. 

 

He quickly weighed the options in his head, and again, and again, before finally deciding to swallow his pride. He pulled out his cell phone. It was, marginally, better to be alive and uncool than dead and (perhaps) somewhat cool.

Marginally. 

 

He called up Doggo. 

 

It felt like it rung forever, but finally the answer came, and he immediately attempted to explain the entire thing, from misguided start to his imminent death, blathering on incoherently and with no real direction, but talking faster than he ever had outside of the laboratory.

He cursed the drugs for making him sound so inarticulate. Normally, he was articulate as heck when he needed to be. Sort of. He was better than this, at least!

 

(...God, he was better than this. He was  _ so much better _ than this.)

 

“Whoa, whoa, pup, slow down. Take it easy. Breathe with me. C’mon. Deep breaths, okay?” Doggo demonstrated and Papyrus nodded, only to feel a flush of what was either embarrassment or illness when he realized Doggo couldn't see him through the phone. That wasn't a normal thing. At least he couldn't see his blushing. “Good, good. Alright. Now, you said you took something?”

“D-DOG TREAT,” he replied, not even trying to suppress his natural tone, only quieting his volume enough to ensure that Sans wouldn't hear, even if he hadn't gotten back to sleep. The walls weren't very thick.

“ Okay, okay good, I see why you called me, then. You made a good decision, okay? I can help you through this,” Doggo's mostly-soothing voice broke into an inaudible mumble for a moment, and Papyrus could just barely read out the words “bad trip” from out all. Oh no. He was having a bad trip. That couldn't be good. He didn't know what that meant but it couldn't be good at all. “Where'd you get it?”

“D-DOGI.”

“...you what?”

The guilt was too much. “I KNOW, I KNOW. I PURCHASED ILLICIT SUBSTANCES IN BROAD, OPEN DAYLIGHT FROM THE LOCAL GENERAL STORE. I'VE GONE ROGUE. I'M SORRY. IF I SURVIVE I WILL NEVER TAKE A DRUG AGAIN.”

“... The Dogi don't deal, Papyrus.”

“WHAT? OF COURSE THEY DEAL? THEY DEALED! RIGHT THERE IN THE OPEN! IN FRONT OF THE COUNTER! AT EYE LEVEL WITH CHILDREN! DRUGS! THEY DEALED ME RIGHT THERE, AND THE DEAL WAS TOO MUCH FOR ME, DOGGO. THE DEAL WAS TOO MUCH! I AM DYING. I AM HIGH AND I AM DYING.”

“What was the name on the label?”

He paused to think. Why did that matter? “...CHEWY-CHEWY GOODBOYS.”

Doggo rolled his eyes at the name, a look of disgust on his face. Oh no. He didn't pick the cool drugs. Doggo thought he wasn't cool.

“Those ain't drugged. They aren't even good.” He mumbled, “they take the name of the Good Boy in vain,” too, but Papyrus didn't hear it, too caught up on processing the first part of that.

“... What exactly do you mean, they aren't drugged? They're… they're dog treats?”

“Papyrus… my ‘treats’ aren't actually… they aren't… they're special. I buy them out of town from some crazy guy in Waterfall.” Papyrus wondered for a split second before he cut off the train of thought. He wasn't going to even consider  _ that _ possibility. There were probably plenty of crazy guys who lived in Waterfall. Besides he was dying, so that was something he needed to focus on right now. “It's good stuff, but they aren't actual dog treats. They just look like it so I can keep em hidden. I don't actually smoke dog treats. They're dog treats.”

“Then why do… WHAT… uh… WHY ARE THE dog treats SO popular, thEn? If THEY AREN'T…?”

“Because we're dogs, Papyrus. We like treats.”

 

Papyrus blinked. “Uncool” did not come close to how he was feeling right now. It was all so obvious. “...S-SO… THE REAL DRUGS WERE INSIDE OF ME ALL ALONG?”

Doggo laughed, then, strong and loud, but Papyrus got the impression, at least, that he was laughing at his words and not at him. “I guess you could say that! Something like that!”

“I AM AN IDIOT.”

“Nah, trust me, I been there. You just made some mistakes. Listen, you good to walk down here to the Inn?”

“Uh… WHY?”

“You said you were sick, right? And they may not have had drugs in them but you still smoked everything else that was in that crap. You might have imagined the high but the sickness is probably the real deal. You probably don't wanna explain this one too that brother of yours, do ya?”

“N-NO. No, I really don't. I'LL UH… I'll pack an overnight bag and head over. I'll be there in a little under 12 minutes.”

“Alright, I'll keep the back unlocked for you.”

Papyrus smiled weakly, feeling the roiling in his core again. “Thanks, Doggo. You're a really good dog!”

“Heh, hey no problem, Papyrus. That's what friends are for, right? See ya in 12.”

"...YES! FRIENDS! S-SEEYA!!!"

The call ended and Papyrus smiled again, a little stronger, this time. The F word hadn't made it weird at all! It had already been too weird to make weirder! A success story!

 

He didn't really have much time to enjoy that, though, because he was definitely very much about to be sick. 

 

  
…maybe he would look into this “healthy choices” thing a little closer after the mess that was tonight.

 


End file.
